


another one bites the dust

by Dandybear



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Burton Family Fanfiction, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moira's recovery in the earliest stages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	another one bites the dust

**Author's Note:**

> Redfield is a Welsh surname, but it could also be a Native American one. In Romero's script he made the Redfields Native and it's kind of stuck with me since then. I decided to split the difference by making them Metis.
> 
> Chris's weird apartment is a reference to his house in the RE5 Viral Campaign videos.
> 
> Title is inspired by both the Queen song, and by the lyrics of Elastic Heart by Sia.

  
  


Returning home is like stepping onto an alien planet.

 

Her clothes get cut off her and burned. She hears a rough gasp from Claire and turns to look at her. She knows she must look different. Everything soft about her was beaten and toned into something hard. Something not quite human anymore. Her arms are still thin, but lined with cords of muscle. Patchwork scar tissue covers what used to be seamless skin. Her ribs and hips stick out more than what’s healthy, probably.

 

God, she’s so tired.

 

The chemical shower is cold and smells of disinfectant. She helps Natalia clean off her face. Barry was sent to the men’s tent and Claire was in the helicopter, and therefore not exposed. Natalia looks up at her with those wise doe eyes.

 

“It’s going to be weird being around so many living people.” She says.

 

“Tell me about it.” Moira says.

 

They stick her with needles and take samples of, well, everything. It’s as if her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She remembers Sherry saying something along those lines about the tests she was given. Now they can share war stories.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time her mother sees her she sobs and holds a hand to her mouth. She looks pained. Moira doesn’t really know how to respond.

 

Polly rushes her with a hug and kisses all over her face.

 

“Jesus Christ, Moira. We thought you were dead!”

 

Then her mother and sister are hugging her and they’re all crying.

 

“You look just like your father after it happened.” Kathy whispers.

 

Moira feels her eyes widen. Of course. The way Daddy would stare at walls and never stop cleaning his gun. How he’d get up in the middle of the night and watch the news with no sound.

 

He did that just after she shot Polly too.

 

So did she, in a way. Stopped sleeping. Stopped feeling safe. Gave up on her dreams of being a cop.

 

“Yeah, well, we Burtons are made of the toughest shit.” Moira says.

 

It earns her watery laughter, the desired effect. She laughs with them and tries not to sound hollow. God, she’s glad to be here, but she feels like she’s left her own body.

 

“I think I need to sleep.” Moira says.

 

“Oh, of course, Sweetie. Let me know if you need anything.”

 

“Thanks, Mommy.”

 

She can’t fucking sleep. The hospital bed feels too soft and the machines monitoring her are too loud. Fucking technology. It’s strange how used to living outside of civilization she got.

 

There’s a view of the city from her window, or at least this neighbourhood of Baltimore. She sees streetlights (people, living just to find emotion). A black kid in a hoodie goes by and Moira hopes he makes it home without getting shot by the cops.

 

She stretches. Maybe it’s PTSD, maybe she’s just so unused to sleeping longer than in four hour intervals.

 

The gown they’ve given her is itchy and clings in all the wrong areas. She feels like everyone can see her nipples all of the time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mom and Polly stop by daily with fretting and take out. Polly says they can compare scars. Moira thinks she’s finally out of the shadow of Polly’s bullet wound. Abandoned on an island for six months totally trumps that.

 

Barry moves between her and Natalia’s rooms. She understands the new baby needs more attention. She’s a grown assed woman who doesn’t need her dad always holding her hand. Now, if Barry wants to come in and kiss her ‘goodnight’ then she’s not gonna be rude.

 

Claire’s visits are the ones she’s always most excited about. Claire brings her sweets and greasy burgers. God, she’s missed processed foods.

 

More than that, Claire understands completely. She tells her in a low voice about Rockfort and Raccoon City. Two stories she’s only heard in snippets. Her blood turns cold when she thinks about being trapped in Antarctica with no one but an incompetent teenage boy to watch her back.

 

God, she hopes she isn’t this prison island’s incompetent teenage boy. To be fair, she didn’t turn into a lizard man and try to kill Claire. Score one for Moira.

 

She can’t believe she’s comparing herself to a dead guy.

  
  


Claire touches her a lot more now. It’s like she’s making sure she’s still there, that her body is warm and breathing and here. She’ll sit on Moira’s bed with her. Claire’s skilled head rubs have caused Moira to doze off a few times. She wakes up to either an empty mattress or if she’s lucky, Claire will be there napping with her or pretending to not be watching her sleep.

 

Today, they’re sitting cross legged on her bed, knees touching.

 

“You know, you don’t have anything to feel guilty about, Claire. You don’t have to make it up to me.” Moira says.

 

Claire looks wounded from over her burger and fries. They’re watching an Adam Sandler vehicle because it’s that or reality TV.

 

“Moira, I’m not doing this to pay back some kind of debt.” Claire starts.

 

Moira mutes the TV. Shut the fuck up, Adam Sandler, Claire’s gonna confess something.

 

“Moira, I’m here because I spent six months agonizing over how much I missed you. I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and if taking a two hour lunch break gets me fired, then Terrasave can kiss my ass.”

 

Moira swallows her mouthful of burger. It goes down despite the lump in her throat. She dabs at her mouth to get off any condiments, then lurches forward to kiss Claire Redfield’s stupid wonderful mouth.

 

Claire meets her half way with a whimper.

 

Her eyes roll back and she thinks of any scientific way she can fuse herself to Claire Redfield, because kissing her is heaven.

 

Actually it’s a weird mashing of faces with too much teeth and enthusiasm. She’s a little breathless, but she tilts her head and it keeps their noses from bumping. Claire’s lips are softer than hers. She can feel a her tongue run over the cut in her own lip. Claire pulls back and Moira draws her in by dragging her lower lip out with her teeth.

 

Moira feels like an excited puppy. She wants to touch everything, Claire’s cute new hair, her biceps, her ass.

 

Sweet lord, her ass.

 

Moira goes for it. She touches the butt and groans, throwing her head back.

 

“Sweet fucking Christ, yes.”

 

Claire laughs breathlessly and nuzzles Moira. She’s big eyed and puffy lipped and looking at Moira like she hung the moon.

 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the first person to sacrifice yourself for me and live to tell the tale?” Claire says.

 

“Is that a thing?”

 

“Remember when Jill died? She saved my brother’s life by tackling Wesker out a window.”

 

“So it’s a thing?”

 

Claire kisses the tip of Moira’s nose, “Yeah, it’s a thing, Hero.”

 

“Bigger Hero.” Moira kisses her chin.

 

Claire gathers Moira in her arms and they wrap around each other ignoring everything else for the remaining half hour Claire has free. When she leaves it’s with much difficulty and even more kisses.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Claire says.

 

“They’re letting me out in two days.” Moira says.

 

“Hey, do you want your old job back?” Claire jokes.

 

“If it means getting to see you every day, then hell yeah, ‘s why I took the job in the first place.” Moira says.

 

The way she says it with no hesitation makes Claire grab her for another passionate kiss.

 

“I don’t want to leave.” She says.

 

“Then don’t.”

 

“I have to. I’m the boss now.”

 

“Then go be the boss. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

She doesn’t say it bitterly, though it crosses her mind.

 

Claire leaves. Two minutes later Barry (Dad) walks in. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to smile.

 

“So, how are you?” He says.

 

He hums and sets about her bedside table organizing nothing. She can feel the nervous energy coming off him in waves.

 

“You saw that, didn’t you?”

 

“Saw what? Came in to tell my daughter the good news and found her locked in an embrace with one of my friends? No, of course not.”

 

He breaks into a grin and holds a fist up for bumping.

 

“Good job on snagging a ten, by the way. Your sister could learn a thing or two from you.”

 

“Dad, Polly and Asher are married, you need to let it go.”

 

“He’s not good enough for her.” Barry says.

 

“I know.”

 

“The boy can’t even change a tire.”

 

“I know.”

 

“He’s got baby hands! Natalia has more callouses!”

 

Moira nods and puts a hand on his bicep.

 

“I know.”

 

He sighs and hangs his head. Moira gives him a few more sympathetic pats.

 

“So, wait, you’re okay with me and Claire?” She says.

 

“Okay with it? I’m over the moon. Finally a solid marriage between Burtons and Redfields. Sure there’s the age gap, but you know who else has an age gap as big as yours? That Jay Z and Beyonce. And they’re a power couple.”

 

“Dad, it’s pronounced Jay Zee.”

 

“We’re Canadians now, Moira. It’s a Zed regardless.”

 

His lips twitch. Fucking Barry. She giggles.

 

“Wait, you said ‘good news’, what good news?” Moira says.

 

“The hospital has reached max Burton capacity. And they’re getting testy about insurance. You and Natalia have full bills of health and they’re kicking us out.”

 

“Fuck yeah!”

 

Moira jumps up and stumbles. Pins and needles shoot through her leg from sitting on it too long. Barry lurches forward to help.

 

“I’m okay, just circulation.”

 

“Your mom’s bringing the car. Finally, we can get the fuck out of Maryland.”

 

“No!” Moira grabs at her dad’s arm.

 

“I still technically work for Terrasave. I should find somewhere to stay.”

 

“Moira. You care way more about Claire Redfield than you do about your job at Terrasave. Don’t try to pull the responsibility card on me.”

 

She puts her hands up and nods. They’ve returned to their almost telepathic understanding of each other.

 

“That being said, the NIH would like to keep you monitored, so I guess leaving you closer would benefit.” He scratches his chin.

 

“Too bad the lease is up on that apartment I got for work. For sale, apartment, barely used.”

 

Barry swats at her, she ducks.

 

“Moira Kelly Burton, do not quote Hemingway under any roof we share so long as I live. We’re Irish. We quote James Joyce.”

 

“Yessir, Pappy.”

 

She gives him a sarcastic salute.

 

Barry walks over to the window. He’s got his eyes on the parking lot. She watches his shoulders begin to shake. Moira gets up on unsteady legs.

 

“Dad?”

 

“You know, I never gave up hope on you. Your… your mother wanted to have a funeral. I told her you couldn’t be dead. I think she feels guilty about it now. Giving up on you, I mean. I think she forgets how strong our family is sometimes.”

 

She can hear the tears in his voice. He doesn’t want to show weakness, so she won’t make him. She hugs him from behind.

 

“It’s okay, Dad, you found me. I’m here.”

 

“God, Moira. I thought… fuck, if you had died and I didn’t get to say ‘goodbye’ or ‘I’m sorry’. Leaving everything so bad between us… it would have been worse than death.”

 

“I know. I felt the same way. I tried to call you--”

 

“I heard your phone call.”

 

She can feel her throat ache from holding in tears. Fuck it. If her dad’s feeling vulnerable she can open up too. She sobs into the back of his shirt.

 

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He says, turning in her arms.

 

She disappears against his chest.

 

“Moira, I’m not going to lie to you. Going through what you did changes a person. There’s going to be a point where you’re not sure who you are anymore. You’ll question why you survived and the others didn’t. You’ll never really feel safe again. Just know, that whoever you become, I’ll always be your dad, and always love you.”

 

“Is it okay if I don’t feel that way?” She says, scared.

 

Barry pauses in petting her hair. She looks up at him.

 

“I know why I survived and the others didn’t. Because I adapted. I was the test subject she was looking for. The one who stuck to the wall... I’m glad Claire got out when she did, The Overseer said only one would make it out alive. I’m guessing she gave me an antivirus or something.”

 

Barry clears his throat. She sees the muscles in his jaw twitch as he chews on his response.

 

“Pretend to be surprised when the doctors tell you this, Moira, you weren’t given an antivirus or placebo. Baby, you’re part of the one percent Wesker was looking for. You mutated with the virus.”

 

“What the fuck?” Moira whispers.

 

“It’s okay. It’s pretty common with survivors. You met Jill. She’s a walking bioterror white blood cell. Emphasis on the white.”

 

“Aw, you know she can’t help her lack of melanin.”

 

“And your friend Sherry can regenerate like some fucking X-Man.”

 

Moira opens her mouth to correct him again, but gives up. He’ll never be cool and that’s okay.

 

He scrubs at his face. She disengages from the hug and sits back on her mattress.

 

“Anyway. It’s nothing bad or wrong with you. Don’t feel like a freak of nature.” He says.

 

“I wonder if I have super powers.” She looks at her hands.

 

Barry gives a sharp bark of laughter. He shakes his head, walking over to the door. He’s brought a bag with him. He hands the bag to her, still chuckling.

 

“Your phone’s in there with some new clothes. Why don’t you text Claire and ask if you can sleep on her ‘couch’ while we look for a new place for you?”

 

He leaves her to her privacy. Moira looks in the bag and then sighs. Clearly Polly’s doing. It looks like she raided Tegan and Sara’s wardrobe. Blue collared shirt, ankle jeans, striped socks and a new leather jacket that doesn’t smell like death.

 

Oh, sweet confinement, she even packed underwear.

 

New clothes feel good. She feels a little more human. Like now she can blend in at least.

 

A nurse comes in to unhook her IV and give her a prescription of anxiety medication.

 

“If you start to notice any fever or swelling of joints, check into the nearest hospital for quarantine immediately.” She says.

 

Moira nods, but her ears hear nothing but white noise.

 

The nurse leaves and Moira exhales. She dials Claire’s number. Claire answers on ring number four (once too much for luck).

 

“Moira? Is everything okay?” Her voice is laced with concern bordering on panic.

 

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. Better than fine, actually. I’m actually being kicked out of the hospital because I’m so fine.”

 

“Oh… Oh! Are you going back to Toronto then?” Claire says.

 

“Well, I don’t really want to, but I no longer have a house here ‘cause they kinda thought I was dead.”

 

She winces, hoping she won’t have to ask. Claire blows out a breath on the other end.

 

“You could always stay with me. Or my brother, Chris is a fucking weirdo with like six spare bedrooms and he sleeps in the bath most of the time.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Claire goes quiet, “Yes, my brother’s a weirdo?”

 

“Yes, please let me stay with you.”

 

There’s a pregnant pause. Moira ducks her head, afraid of coming off too forward. When Claire replies she can hear the smile in her voice.

 

“Awesome. That’s… really awesome. Your dad has my address. I can come pick you up after work--”

 

“Dad can give me a ride.”

 

“I’ll still need to let you in. I’m off in two hours. Meet me at the apartment?”

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

“I need to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight.”

 

“Mmhm, kay, love you.” Moira closes her eyes in horror.

 

She just didn’t fucking say that. Way to be clingy as fuck. Shit, she’s going to alienate Claire by being such a mouthbreather.

 

“I love you too.” Claire says then hangs up.

 

Moira lies down because she can’t handle what her feelings are doing right now.

 

“Barry says we need to leave.”

 

She looks to the doorway. Natalia is standing there wearing a dress and expression that make her look like a tiny granny.

 

“He says the Hospital’s going to start spraying us with holy water soon.” Natalia says.

 

Moira laughs and gets up, taking the bag with her. She bends down to hug her new sister.

 

“Honestly, I think he could use the bath.” She whispers to Natalia.

 

Natalia giggles.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


Barry drives them to a park so they both can get some exercise. Moira sits on a swing and watches her dad chase Natalia around the playground. It feels weird. The wind ruffling her hair. She keeps checking over her shoulder. Instead of the sick and undead, the biggest threat to her is suburban mom stink eye.

 

“Um, excuse me, my son wants to use the swing.”

 

Moira eyes the woman in front of her. She’s been on her phone for twenty minutes, ignoring her kid, who seems content to eat sand right now.

 

“There is another perfectly good swing, Lady, can you go power trip somewhere else please?” Moira says.

 

The one huffs a whole bunch of times and flaps her hands. She’s looking for some authority figure to back her up. The nearest one is Barry, who is watching the situation with some amusement.

 

Natalia comes to her rescue by climbing into the empty swing.

 

“Come on Moira, I bet I can go higher than you!”

 

Problem solved. She lets Natalia win their little competition because she wants to make Natalia feel welcome.

 

“Moira, do we need to pick up anything before we take you to Claire’s?”

 

Girls don’t really need condoms do they? Like, yeah, STDs and shit, but she’s clean and she’s pretty sure Claire is. She’s getting ahead of herself.

 

“A host present? Like, I dunno, a melon or a six pack or something?”

 

She gets off the swing and stands at the edge of the playground, waiting for Natalia to dismount. She jumps and lands in the gravel close to the side.

 

“Way to stick the landing, Nat!”

 

A thumbs up is the response.

 

Barry makes some bear like noises as he thinks.

 

“What’s the hold up?”

 

“You’re too young to drink in this state and I don’t wanna set a bad example for Natalia.” He says.

 

Moira closes her eyes and rubs her temples.

 

“Fuck that.” Natalia says.

 

They share wide eyed looks and then point at each other.

 

“This is your fault!” They say while high fiving Natalia.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They meet up with Kathy and Polly at a mall parking lot. Polly’s perched on the hood of the car, talking to her shitty husband on the phone. Kathy greets all of them with a hug. She has a backpack that she shoves at Moira.

 

“Your father tells me you’ll be spending the night at Claire’s.”

 

Moira eyes the bag like it’s got a bomb inside it. Does her mother know? What will this overnight kit contain? Are there dildos? Her mother wouldn’t buy her surprise dildos. Well, except for that one time for her fourteenth birthday because Oprah said it was a good idea.

 

“Chris has generously offered up his home for us to stay in tonight. It’s getting late and I don’t want to do an eight hour trip overnight. He tells me to mind the African fertility idols and ignore the butcher plastic in the bathroom.”

 

There’s an uncomfortable silence at that. Chris Redfield is a weird guy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Moira’s fifteen minutes late to Claire’s house and clutching her overnight bag and a six pack of some beer that the clerk promised her didn’t taste like pee. She knocks and hears hurried steps.

 

Claire appears with her hair tied at the nape of her neck in a loose ponytail. She looks freshly showered and very nervous.

 

“Hey.” She says.

 

“Hey.” Moira says.

 

She stands in the doorway having difficulty proceeding.

 

“Here, let me take your things.” Claire says.

 

Moira follows her inside. She takes her shoes off and notes that it looks like the place has been hastily tidied.

 

Claire’s apartment says ‘adult’ but she can see the hangovers of bachelor life. The walls are white, probably the colour the apartment came with. The floor is wood at least. There’s still some boxes of things pushed into corners. The walls are bare except for a Queen poster and a collage of postcards from Paris. Her office dominates the living room and her (very modern) kitchen looks barely touched.

 

“Sorry about the mess!” Claire says.

 

“What mess?” Moira says.

 

She follows Claire through the apartment to the guest bedroom. Claire’s on autopilot, putting the backpack next to the bed and talking about how the sheets are fresh.

 

Shit’s awkward. Moira needs to defuse the awkwardness. She grabs Claire by the elbow. Claire flinches and turns.

 

“Claire.”

 

“Yes?”

 

Moira invades her space slowly until Claire’s thighs are against the back of the bed.

 

“It’s just me.” Moira says.

 

Claire looks down at her, breathing rapidly.

 

“I feel like a teenager on a first date.” She admits.

 

“Me too.” Moira says.

 

Claire sighs in relief, pulling Moira in for a hug. They take a moment to just settle together. Moira tucks her head against Claire’s neck. Claire giggles.

 

“Your breath is tickling me.”

 

Moira exhales forcefully. Claire squirms and falls back onto the bed, taking Moira with her. The bed groans as they land.

 

“So.” Claire says, avoiding eye contact.

 

Moira finds it adorable how flustered she is. Like, she’s the one with less experience here.

 

“So?” She weaves her hand into her hair.

 

“I was thinking of making Endives au Gratin for dinner.” Claire swallows hard.

 

“Sounds fancy. Are you trying to impress me? ‘cause Babe, you don’t need to, I’ve seen you with a shotgun.”

 

Claire tenses up. Moira backtracks.

 

“I mean, is it okay for me to call you ‘Babe’? I guess we should establish boundaries and shit. Like, define whatever this is early, so no one has any false expectations.”

 

Claire laughs nervously and throws her wrist over her face. Moira pokes the wrist in hopes of making eye contact. Finally, one grey-blue eye peeks out at her.

 

“I haven’t had a serious relationship in eight years. Neil was getting close, but even that was work friends-slash-fuckbuddies.”

 

Moira hisses at the mention of Neil.

 

“Okay, seriously, did he have a big dick or something? ‘Cause he wasn’t good looking or charismatic and I feel like you have better standards than that.”

 

“I… deserve that. Yes, okay, he was well endowed… and convenient.” Claire sighs.

 

Silence.

 

“And my family is taking every opportunity to mock me about it.” She adds.

 

Because Jill and Chris have taken to calling betrayal “pulling a Neil”.

 

“Sorry, just catching up to the beginning of that sentence. Serious relationship? Is that what you want with me?” Moira says.

 

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve been sat down on several occasions by different men in my life telling me that: if I ever meet a guy-or girl who would die to save me, but doesn’t because they’re too badass to die, then stay with them.”

 

Moira feels a stupidly dopey grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

 

“I’m willing to try if you are.” Claire says.

 

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in love with you for years.”

 

Claire blinks at Moira, wide eyed and a little speechless.

 

“Like, spoiler alert, but TerraSave isn’t that appealing to young people. Not as appealing as your ass in tight jeans is anyway.” Moira says.

 

“Thank you. I think. I mean, I find helping Bioterror survivors appealing.”

 

“I do too. Moreso now that I am one.”

 

Claire sits up, Moira slides into her lap. A warm hand curls against her too-thin thigh. God, she feels like a skeleton.

 

“I should get started on dinner.” Claire says.

 

“I didn’t offend you, did I?”

 

“No,” Claire kisses Moira’s cheek, “But it’s getting late and you’re still so tiny.”

 

Moira tips her head to catch her in an open mouthed kiss. She makes a surprised squeak when Claire stands. She wraps her legs around Claire’s waist as not to fall on her ass.

 

“Warn a girl first.”

 

Claire sticks her tongue out.

 

She carries Moira to the kitchen and deposits her on the table before digging through the fridge. Moira waits for her heart rate to return to normal before speaking.

 

“I’m gonna say I’m a little disappointed that didn’t end in you ravishing me.” She swings her legs.

 

Claire talks while chopping parsley.

 

“First things first. I feel like I could snap you in half right now. You weigh like ten pounds.”

 

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve gained six pounds since I’ve been back.”

 

Moira hops off the table to come and hover in the kitchen. She balances in between wanting to be close to Claire and trying not to get in her way.

 

“Do you need help with anything?”

 

“Could you grate the gruyere please?”

 

Moira moves past her to the fridge in search of cheese. She picks a spot on the counter closest to Claire and bumps her hip while she works. Claire laughs and bumps back.

 

For a moment, Moira lets herself fantasize about them cooking for their kids. Being domestic. Taking kids to soccer games and laser tag birthday parties. Tired couch sex because the kids have colds and are passed out in their bedroom.

 

Which is a little different than her previous Claire related fantasies which delve into naughty schoolmistress and hot mechanic territory.

 

_{}_

_“Hello, Class. I’m your substitute teacher, Ms. Redfield. Now, who wants to give their oral presentation first. Oh, Moira, I’d like to speak to you after class.”_

_{}_

_“Looks like you need a lube job.”_

_Mechanic!Claire wipes her oil covered hands on a rag. A bead of sweat rolls down her cleavage. She looks Moira up and down, clearly checking her out._

_“I don’t usually work late, but if you gave me some incentive…”_

 

_{}_

 

Sexy fantasies aren’t supposed to be realistic, but here she is thinking fondly of the days to come when they’ll be having quickies at work and alienating the office.

 

Claire pops her thought bubble with the question,

 

“Whatcha thinking about?”

 

You in various outfits ravishing me.

 

“You in various outfits ravishing me.”

 

Claire snorts and clutches her chest a little. She’s playing flustered off as annoyed. It’s kind of adorable.

 

“I’m going to put some music on. Do you have an opposition to Freddy Mercury?”

 

“Does anyone?” Moira says.

 

“No one allowed in this house, anyway.” Claire says from the other room.

 

Moira sees her absence as a good chance to use the bathroom. She suddenly has the very urgent need to pee.

 

Claire’s bathroom is oddly fancy. She has a wine red shower curtain and it casts a glow on the rest of the room. Moira sighs and looks down and--oh no.

 

 _Surprise bitch._ That little puddle of blood mocks her.

 

She hasn’t had her period in six fucking months, so of course she’s going to get it now. Along with bloating, cramping, and nausea.

 

“Fuck my liiiffeee.”

 

Moira storms out of the bathroom and finds Claire belting along to ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. She pauses to watch as Claire emotes with hand gestures and aggressive hip thrusts at

 

_“I’m a sex machine ready to reload. Like an atom bomb about to blow-oh-oh-oh-explode!”_

 

She turns, spotting Moira and points her imaginary microphone in the other girl’s direction. Never one to turn down a duet, Moira sings along even though she doesn’t know all the words.

 

(She does well at the ‘Don’t Stop Me’ chant.)

 

As the opening chords of ‘More of that Jazz’ start playing Moira remembers her previous issue. She catches Claire opening her mouth to sing.

 

“I need a tampon.”

 

Claire’s mouth flounders a bit. She turns down the music and the stove.

 

“Yeah, of course. I have pads and tampons. Which would you prefer?”

 

“I’ll live the plug life.” Moira throws up a gang sign.

 

Claire bites her lip to avoid laughing. Instead she sighs,

 

“White people.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re what? 1/64th Cherokee?”

 

“Half Metis, you ass.”

 

She slaps Moira’s butt for emphasis. Moira squeaks and turns, doing her best impression of her mother’s offended face.

 

“How dare you.”

 

Claire moves past her to a cabinet near the bathroom. She returns holding a tampon as well as a bottle of Midol, and a hot water bottle shoved under one arm.

 

“If I had known I would have made a less heavy meal.” She says, offering the Midol and tampon. Moira takes them greatfully.

 

“It’s all good. I could use the calories according to the nutritionists from the NIH.”

 

Moira shouts this over her shoulder as she heads back to the washroom.

 

She can’t help the giddy shiver that overtakes her. She still can’t believe that years worth of quiet pining have led to this. Claire Redfield just smacked her bum. Now if she could do that a lot more times, maybe with a paddle, that would be awesome.

 

Claire’s waiting in the kitchen with a hot water bottle and a mug of steaming tea. Moira headbutts Claire’s collar in affectionate response.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Claire places the hot water bottle on the counter and gathers Moira into her arms. They sway to Radio Gaga. Moira tugs the hair at the nape of Claire’s neck. She growls in response.

 

“Like that?” Moira says, breathless.

 

“Mmhm.” Claire says, “Food’s in the oven, and I was thinking we could watch a movie while we wait.”

 

Moira makes a disappointed noise. Claire pulls back to scrutinize her. Moira fidgets.

 

“I was hoping we could do naked fun things but now I’m bleeding all over everything and my boobs are kinda sore. Why does my body have to cockblock me like this?”

 

Claire laughs and ruffles Moira’s hair.

 

“There’s no rush. I’m not sure if I’m ready to put out on the first date anyway. We can wait as long as we want.”

 

Moira plucks at the hem of Claire’s shirt.

 

“Okay, but I know you pretty well, and I know that soon you’re going to start over thinking and worrying about being too old for me. However, when your junk gets involved it seems to do a good job of putting rational thought in a headlock. Case and point: Neil.”

 

Claire huffs and extricates herself from the hug to fetch a box of Oreos from the cupboard. She remains offended enough to leave Moira in the kitchen as she sets up Netflix.

 

Moira follows her with the hot water bottle and tea. She’s a little worried that she’s actually pissed Claire off. Her expression appears neutral enough.

 

“Sorry if that was too far.” Moira says.

 

“I guess I’m still a little touchy about Neil. But,” She grabs Moira’s hand and looks her in the eye, “I promise I’m not going to get cold feet and leave you. Never again.”

 

That sounds close enough to a promise of forever to have Moira feeling like she’s going to swoon.

 

She tucks herself against Claire’s chest as they sit. Claire scrolls through their options.

 

“What do you feel like watching?” She says.

 

Moira can feel the vibrations of her words and her heart pressing against her ear. She contemplates.

 

“I dunno, something mindless and gore free. Like a cartoon.”

 

Claire switches to the Kids section.

 

“How does Megamind sound?”

 

“Really dumb, let’s watch it.”

 

(Boy was she wrong.)

 

They keep watching with plates of Endive au Gratin and glasses of wine, transfixed to the TV. Moira passes out during the final battle, her plate balanced precariously on her knees. Claire moves it to the coffee table before turning the TV off. She puts the dishes in the dishwasher and the leftovers in the fridge.

 

Moira is tiny. You could fit her in a thimble easily. She compensates with a large mouth and larger personality, but when she’s sleeping it all melts away. She’s just a small girl with a big chip on her shoulder. Claire carries her to the guest bedroom bridal style because she weighs like ten pounds soaking wet.

 

As much as it pains her to do so, she wakes the younger woman with a gentle touch. Moira doesn’t flinch or scream, instead she blinks blearily.

 

“Did he patch things up with Roxanne?”

 

“Yeah, and he became a hero too.” Claire says.

 

“Oh, good.” Moira yawns.

 

“I got you up because I thought you’d want to change before bed.” Claire chucks a pad at Moira’s head.

 

“Oh yeah, thanks. Can I be creepy and use one of your shirts as pyjamas?”

 

Claire gives her an oversized tee with a graphic zombie doberman on the front labelled ‘Raccoon City Watchdogs 98’. It’s in poor taste and she loves it.

 

Moira returns from the bathroom wearing only the shirt and a pair of panties. Claire sweats. Her promises of remaining chaste seem so far fetched now.

 

“Well, goodnight!” Claire says.

 

“Claire, please don’t make me sleep alone.” Moira sounds so vulnerable.

 

They sleep in Claire’s Queen sized. Moira passes out right after a sloppy good night kiss. Claire is left wide awake, senses heightened. Every brush of their bare legs together makes her feel as if there’s a wire tightening the muscles in her stomach and groin. The familiar warm haze of lust. She dampens it, instead choosing to smooth a thumb over Moira’s hipbone. There’s a scar there she can feel where the skin gets smoother and tighter.

 

Moira grunts under her fingers and burrows closer to her. Claire envies that. When she got out of Raccoon City she didn’t feel safe enough to sleep anywhere. Adrenaline and the stubborn need to find her brother kept her going on three hours a night.

 

However, Raccoon City was one adrenaline filled day. Moira lived that for six months. She wonders if maybe Moira just got used to it and that it helped keep the nightmares at bay.

 

God, she looks so young and fragile. Claire is a wolf. She is a wolf chasing this little girl’s red cape and she should be ashamed of herself. She’s calling the police on herself first thing in the morning.

 

(Moira fucking called it.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Moira wakes up feeling cold. She’s curled on her side and there’s a crick in her neck. She overslept. Where’s the old man? She needs to make sure the gate is locked. Her heart hammers in her chest. She needs to. Needs to. Needs to.

 

She rolls over to see soft pillows and a duvet that’ been tucked around her. Natural light filters in through the blinds. She can hear the low murmur of a woman’s voice in the next room. Oh, and her underwear feels tacky. With a groan, she remembers where and when she is. She is safe. She is in need of a new pad.

 

Shuffling out of bed like a zombie she’s met by Claire on her way to the bathroom.

 

“G’morning.” Moira grunts.

 

“Moira, it’s noon.”

 

Moira groans.

  
  


Once showered and feeling a little less sticky, she greets Claire with a more coherent response. She’s made strawberry crepes for breakfast like some kind of goddess.

 

“So, did you spend all night over thinking about this and are now too worried to give me a good morning kiss?” Moira says.

 

She puckers her lips for emphasis.

 

Claire grabs her by the jaw and kisses her once, twice, three times. Moira keeps her eyes closed and licks her lips.

 

“Is that a ‘no’?” She says.

 

Claire piles some whip and berry onto her fork and eats it before answering.

 

“Nope, I totally did, but I am at peace with it this morning. I figure if I have a young, attractive woman who wants to love me then I am just very blessed. Plus, it’s not like you’re not a consenting adult.”

 

“I consent to kisses and breakfast.” Moira says.

 

Claire takes another bite when Moira adds,

 

“And to you feeling me up while I sleep.”

 

Claire chokes.


End file.
